Break Out
by ebfiddler
Summary: The crew discovers the dirty secret of a terraforming operation, and Mal concocts a plan. Fifth in series.
1. Chapter 1

Break Out, Part 1

Fifth Story in a series starting with A Lion's Mouth, Adventures in Sitting, Sparks Fly, and Expectations.

_Serenity's new supercargo has a secret._

_A/N: More adventures for our BDH's. Please leave a comment or review._

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><p>Mal and Inara sat side by side on his bed with their backs against the bulkhead. They held hands, their fingers caressing each other as they talked. One of the best things about being together, Mal found, was the companionship, not in the capital letter sense of the word. Inara, simply by asking, got him talking about some things he hadn't thought on in years. Turned out his life hadn't always been all bleak and tragic, after all. He just hadn't thought about the fine and shiny things in so long. Now she had him telling one of the shiniest stories of all, though it hadn't seemed that way at the time.<p>

"…so the three of us saw we were right by the local swimming hole. And it was a mighty hot day, and we were tired and sweaty after all that walking…"

"So you went for a swim?" Inara prompted.

Mal nodded, with a twinkle in his eyes. "Now you see, Indian Brook was the prime swimming hole for the entire Northside—everybody went there," he explained. "Families with the little ones, grannies, grandpas, and all. So it was a proper family swimming hole, strictly suits-on, you understand."

"I take you had _not _brought along your bathing suits."

"That's more thinking ahead than anybody could rightly expect from three thirteen-year-old boys. We'd set out for a hike, not a swim. But you see, we looked down into that clear, cool water, the color of weak tea, and it was more than we could do to resist walking down the path that led down the steep bank, at least to take off our shoes and dangle our feet in the water. Well, after a while, we thought, ain't nobody around, so we shucked off our clothes and in we went."

He paused, surrounded by memories of the fine old swimming hole. "It was glorious. There was a broad, flat area, where the brook made a bend, covered with pebbles and cobbles—that was where you'd leave your towel, supposin' you had one, which we didn't—and a shallow area where the parents let the little ones splash about. Then it got deeper, much deeper, as it ran right up beside a rocky cliff on the other side. There were a few spots you could scramble up to a ledge and jump off into the water. So there we were, climbing, jumping, swimming, havin' a ball. It wasn't til it was too late to make our escape that we even heard their voices."

Inara gave him a look of shiny-eyed anticipation, and squeezed his hand.

"It was May Stanley, surrounded, as usual, by a bevy of beautiful maidens."

"A bevy of what—?"

"She was the queen bee of our school, four years older 'n us boys, and that much higher and mightier. And she and her friends weren't dressed for swimmin'. I suppose that shoulda tipped us off, but we were too concerned with stayin' in the deeper parts of the water, lurking behind the few boulders that existed in that part of the brook, tryin' to keep our—hopin' they'd decide not to stay."

"So they stayed." _Of course_.

"Oh, yes. And when we begun to pay attention to what they were talkin' about, we realized we needed to come up with a plan of action to extract ourselves from the brook before things got all manner of worse."

"How much worse could it get?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, things can always get worse. You see, we'd clean forgot about the Church Ladies' Tea."

"The Church Ladies' Tea?"

"Every year, the Church Ladies put on a fancy high tea, just for the women and girls. They'd set up the tea tables in some scenic spot, and the women and girls 'd dress in their finest, and they'd eat cucumber sandwiches and tea biscuits and sip tea and enjoy polite conversation."

"That sounds like my childhood," Inara mused.

"When we realized that May and her bevy were just the vanguard, that in a few minutes' time the place would be crawling with womenfolk, we reckoned we needed to get gone immediately, no matter the cost. So we figured out a plan."

"Another one of your 聪明 cōngming plans, was it?" she said with a smile. She _knew_ it; he hadn't really changed.

"Won't deny it. Plan was, one of us 'd create a diversion, and the others would double back along the other side of the girls, retrieve the clothes, and we'd all beat it up the path afore any more trouble arrived."

"I can just see it." And she just knew _who_ would create the diversion. Bubbles of laughter started tickling her insides.

"You don't know the half of it. So I came splashing out of the brook, whoopin' and hollerin' like a snapping turtle got a hold of my—uh, and of course they all looked my direction, and Tim and Raj came outta the water just as fast and quiet-like as they could on the other side. Soon as I saw they'd reached the cover of the path, I went streakin' round to join 'em. Caught up to 'em just as we reached the first bend. And that's where we ran into Mrs Primrose and her sister Nellie, carrying a tea table and a picnic basket."

Inara laughed, picturing it. Ho, boy, picturing it, picturing him—she was shaking with laughter, doubling over.

"Raj and Tim were carrying the clothes, at least they could cover their—I didn't have a stitch on me—not so much as a—" he snorted with laughter, barely able to continue, "—fig leaf—" snort "—and on up the path, past the Farrell twins, Aunt Jess, and on and on—we had to run the gauntlet—every female on the North Side—"

Inara gave a most unladylike snort, and they both collapsed in gales of laughter.

. . .

The grav modifiers required a lot of attention, Ip Neumann found. No matter how carefully he balanced them, they tended to drift off, and the forces were such that by the time he woke each morning, the crates were pulling and straining against the grommets and strappings, threatening to buckle the deck plates. Kaylee often stopped by to lend a hand. He was grateful for the help, and he enjoyed her company.

"—so, just a little adjustment to the lateral line—" he said, reaching over to guide Kaylee's hand to the right spot.

"I see it," she said, making the adjustment with her tool. "But shouldn't I also touch up the G balance while I'm in here? It would last longer that way, wouldn't it?"

"Good thinking," he said. She was a natural, Neumann thought. Though she had no previous experience with grav modifiers, she was already thinking up better ways to optimize them. He brushed his hand across her shoulder, accidental-on-purpose.

"Alright," Kaylee finished, standing up. "Well, fun as this is, I got an atmo fixer calling out to me for some fine-tuning. I'll see ya around."

. . .

Simon spent a lot of his time in the infirmary. It was not that the people of Serenity were perpetually sick or injured, although there was generally more of that going around than was reasonable on a spaceship of this size. He had several long-running research projects going, and between running tests, analyzing the results, reading the literature, and checking cortex databases when feasible, Simon actually kept himself very busy. His main project, of course, was trying to find ways to improve River's state of mind, whether by means of a better drug cocktail, psychological therapy of one form or another, or even the possibility of corrective surgery. He researched all avenues. And he had several other ongoing projects. River wasn't the only one aboard with a chronic medical condition, and Simon tried to keep informed of pharmaceuticals, therapies, and procedures likely to be of use to all his patients, whether they were willing or reluctant recipients of his care.

He was looking through some recent test results, when he glanced up, and through the window he saw Kaylee and Dr Neumann in the cargo bay. Again. He had no reason to be jealous. Kaylee loved him and he loved her. They'd slept together every night since….He had no reason to be jealous, but he was. Neumann was holding her hand, and the _look _on his face….He had no reason to think Kaylee responsive to the man's obvious attentions. She smiled at Neumann. No reason. She smiled at everybody. She smiled at the Captain. She even smiled Jayne. Neumann brushed his hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, laughing. Simon scowled. The ugly green-eyed monster grabbed at his heart.

. . .

"Hello, Cap'n," Kaylee said, as she headed up the cargo bay stairs toward the engine room.

"How's my girl?" Mal asked, giving her a one-armed squeeze and an affectionate kiss on the top of the head.

"Serenity's hummin' along beautifully, Cap'n. Been hearin' a little wheeze in the atmo fixer, though, gonna go check it out."

"You do that, 妹妹 mèimei," Mal nodded, acknowledging the report. "And how's my favorite mechanic?"

"Just shiny, Cap'n." Kaylee gave him one of her heart-lifting sunshine smiles. "Y' know that jamming device I found on 尘球 Chén Qiú when I was fixing the shuttle navs and comm?" He nodded. "Think I can strip it down for parts. Got a notion I can use a couple of 'em to shore up the atmo."

Mal looked down into the cargo bay, where the supercargo was hard at work, fiddling with the grav modifiers. Those things required more attention than a temperamental prima donna. Kaylee had been helping out, he knew, but the man still had his hands full. Newman no longer jumped sky-high when Mal encountered him, but Mal figured the man was still a little spooked by the nav sat escapade he had witnessed. He woulda paid that Nilsen fellow if the man had been a decent, honest, ordinary shady businessman. But Mal didn't have no compunction about stealing the nav sats out of the hands of a slave-trading, drug-dealing 混蛋 húndàn who'd like as not stripped them off a ship whose occupants ended up in his slave-pen. The alternative was to order new from the factory and wait dirtside four to six weeks for delivery or to risk another trip in the Black with no navigational aids. But Newman didn't know all that. He hadn't yet spoken much with the fellow, and he liked to know what kind of people he had on his boat. A nice, pleasant conversation was in order, so he stepped down to the cargo bay.

"How's it going, Mr Newman? Those grav modifiers behaving for you?"

"Yes, they are, Captain. And it's Dr Noy-man, actually. You can call me Ip."

"Ip. You a doctor, then, like Simon?"

"Well, no, not a medical doctor. I'm a PhD. A terraformologist."

"Aren't you the educated man then? What're you doin' slummin' with the likes of us?" Mal's tone was casual, but he watched and listened intently to Neumann's answer. A lot could be revealed in casual conversation.

Neumann declined to address the term 'slumming.' "Well, I took the supercargo job because I'm studying terraforming sites—and it pays the passage from one site to another. I do the research on my own time, and I'm writing up papers to publish in the scientific journals."

"So our destination one of your study sites, then?"

"Oh, no. There's nothing for me to study on 泥球 Ní Qiú, that's just a straightforward terraforming-as-usual place. You see, I'm a specialist in studying terraforming accidents and disasters."

Mal's good mood evaporated as the loss of Shadow immediately loomed up in the front of his mind. "Really."

Neumann didn't detect Mal's withdrawal, and went on. "Yes. I was on 尘球 Chén Qíu to look into an incident that occurred there about six months ago—caused acid rain, stunted nascent plant life, ate away the workers' protective gear."

"So why ain't you doin' this work for some university?"

"I haven't earned a professorship yet. I hope to, though," he added with a big smile. "I did some work like this when I was still a student, under the guidance of Professor Rao, my thesis advisor. But after graduation, I got a job that didn't allow me to do any field work."

Mal encouraged him to go on with a look.

"I worked for the terraforming division of a big corporation. I had access to all kinds of data, and it was interesting work, I guess—but all theoretical. No work at all at actual terraforming sites. I just got fed up with all the rules, the regulations, wanted some independence. So I left my job about three months ago, and I've been traveling the 'Verse since then, mostly the outer rim."

"So why does your contract state that I'm to deliver you to Persephone? Ain't no terraforming incident to study there, is there?"

"Well, I just didn't want to be left on 泥球 Ní Qiú. There's nothing interesting there. I figured Persephone would at least offer some opportunity to get to another study site."

The fling at Rim worlds—"nothing interesting"—put Mal's back up a bit, but he had to admit that 泥球 Ní Qiú wasn't exactly his idea of a prime vacation spot neither, so he let it go. Neumann was still talking.

"What I'm really interested in, Captain, is studying the planets where the more unusual terraforming accidents have occurred. Ones where the facts just don't add up to an obvious hypothesis. You know, the eyewitness accounts and field observations don't quite mesh with the data in the published reports. Those are the ones I really want to study—either visit the planet myself or at least talk to an intelligent observer who's been there. Ferdinand Moon, Miranda, Shadow—these are my top cases. Is it true that you've been to Miranda?"

Mal turned abruptly on his heel and left.

. . .

"…so then he just turned and left, without another word," Ip Neumann told Kaylee. It had been his first opportunity to ask the Captain about Miranda, and he'd blown it. "I don't understand…maybe I was talking too much, I do tend to go on and on about my work, I probably got too prosy—" He was distraught. The journey to 泥球 Ní Qiú was a short one, and he might not have another opportunity. The idea of missing his chance to find out more about Miranda was distressing.

"Don't worry about it none, Ip. The Captain can be really closed off at times, it just drives Inara crazy—he just won't say what's on his mind, leaves us all to guess at what's bothering him. But he's really such a nice man, a good man, he cares about all us on the crew so much. What was you sayin' that set him off?"

"I don't rightly know," Ip said, gazing about the passenger dorm lounge as if it held the answer. "He was asking me about my work, and I told him that I study terraforming accidents. I was in the middle of that when he walked off. Guess I just went on too long."

"Captain's a busy man, Ip. Reckon he just remembered something he had to do." Kaylee gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder as she stood up to leave the room.

Simon had heard their voices as he worked in the infirmary, though he couldn't make out the words. He looked up to see Kaylee caressing Neumann. He couldn't see Kaylee's face, but the expression on Neumann's was unmistakable. It was clear as daylight that Neumann had taken a fancy to Kaylee.

. . .

Mal and Inara were lying in his bed together, basking in the afterglow of some vigorous exercise. Inara leaned back against Mal's naked chest, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped in his arms. The sleeping together part of their relationship was definitely going well. And the talking together part—well, that was improving. Mostly.

"C'mon, Inara. Out with it."

"Oh, no, Mal—"

"I told you the most embarrassing story of my youth—I just think you should return the favor."

"I'd like to reciprocate—I just don't think I could possibly top that swimming hole story."

"It's not a contest, Inara. I just want to hear what it was like, when you were growing up." Mal could hear Simon and Kaylee's voices, murmuring through the bulkhead. The walls were still too thin, but he guessed he didn't mind quite so much, now that he was in a position to pay them back in kind for all the…noise.

"Well, all right then. But I'm warning you, there's a lot of frilly girly stuff."

" 'S what I want to hear," he answered with a grin.

"—just want to know what you mean by flirting with Neumann all the time?" Simon's voice rang loud and clear through the bulkhead.

"The walls are…thin, aren't they?" Inara said.

Kaylee's voice was also raised, and carried clearly. "It don't mean nothin' at all, Simon. And I ain't been flirtin' with him. Just being ordinary friendly, is all."

"Been meaning to sound-proof the bulkheads," Mal said.

"—returning his favors, that's all I'm talking about," they heard Simon say angrily.

Kaylee's voice was indignant. "You think I'm 'returning his favors,' is it? How can you think so?"

Mal and Inara looked at each other with concern. The other couple's discussion was rapidly escalating from a discussion to a fight…to a blow-up.

Simon was shouting. "—just seeing the evidence that's in front of my face. God, I've been so blind!"

"Out!" Kaylee shrieked. "If that's what you think of me, you just get out of this bunk right now!"

"You've been playing me for a fool. And to think I trusted you!" They heard his parting shot, stomping, and slamming, as Simon left Kaylee's bunk. Mal and Inara looked at each other in stunned silence. They could hear Kaylee burst into a storm of weeping. They regarded each other for a moment, and a look of understanding passed between them.

. . .

Ip Neumann sat in the lounge area near the dining room, working on his paper about 尘球 Chén Qíu. He preferred to work in public areas of the ship, rather than in the solitude of his bunk, because he was not a solitary person. Having other people nearby while he worked was not usually a distraction; it was more of a comfort. He had no objection at all when River entered and sat down near him in the lounge. He acknowledged her arrival and continued his work.

They sat in silence for a minute or two. "It wasn't just the units," River said, suddenly.

"What?" Neumann's concentration was broken.

"The failure to convert the units only accounts for 97 percent of the pH imbalance," River stated. "The remainder of the problem has to do with the way the designers set up this matrix." She pointed to the offending object in Ip's paper. "They failed to accommodate the change in diffusion rate in a high-pressure atmosphere. Here," she directed Ip's attention to a particular equation. "They used the wrong Reynolds number here in the Einstein-Stokes equation."

Neumann considered what she had said. "Let me take a closer look at that." He started figuring.

River sat, smiling, and waited for him to catch up. He was actually pretty quick at the calculations. Not bad.

After a moment, Neumann looked up at River with some admiration. "You're on to something," he said. "Have you studied terraformology?"

"Not before this," River answered, smiling brightly. "Mathematics," she added.

"But this is multivariable calculus," Neumann objected. "And thermodynamics."

"Elementary mathematics," River conceded. "Experts sometimes forget the basics."

"No, I mean….Have you studied multivariable calculus?" Neumann asked, with some surprise.

River rolled her eyes. Of course she had.

"How old are you, River?" he asked.

"Eighteen," she answered. She thought she knew what he meant. "It was a long time ago. But I still remember it!" she said eagerly. "Top 12.5 percent of my class!"

Neumann looked puzzled, so she clarified, "My class had eight students."

Neumann was very impressed. She must have been quite young at the time, if it really was "a long time ago" that she passed multivariable calculus at the top of her class. She was apparently some kind of mathematical prodigy. He regarded her with an admiring look. Simon entered the dining room, caught sight of Neumann, and glared. Then Simon saw the look Neumann was directing at his sister. The look he shot at Neumann spoke so clearly of daggers of death that Neumann almost cringed. Simon finished his performance with one more filthy look and stalked out the other way.

"It must be the sex," River said to Ip Neumann.

"What?" _Where had _that_ come from?_

"I thought it was only unfulfilled sexual longing that made them all behave so unreasonably," River said with logical precision, "but it appears that the consummation of their wishes does not put an end to irrational behavior."

. . .

Simon and Kaylee's quarrel soon affected everyone on the ship. Kaylee was too distraught to listen to Serenity's machinery with her usual attention, and a worrisome grinding sound was heard intermittently from the engine room. Something odd happened to the atmo fixer, and a noxious effluvium with a hint of septic in it pervaded the ship. The bridge seemed to be the focal point for the atmo feed, and those who shared the pilotage of Serenity were afflicted with headaches. Simon dumped over an infirmary drawer in his agitation and broke open a number of vials of foul-smelling medication. Not only did it add to the general foulness of the air, but when he stalked off to look for a broom and dustpan to clean it up, Jayne walked into the infirmary barefoot looking for tape to strap his ankles, and received several nasty cuts on the soles of his feet. Zoe found Kaylee crying in the kitchen while on cook duty, neglecting the pots on the stove. She dismissed Kaylee and took over the meal, to discover only after the food had been served that a nasty burnt taste pervaded it all, making it nearly unpalatable.

By afternoon, Zoe had snapped at Jayne again. Jayne was grumpy because he couldn't bench press in the cargo bay on account of the finicky grav modifiers being there, and his pent-up energy had been re-directed into coarse expressions toward everybody. Simon was glaring at everyone, jumping down their throats if they asked for so much as a bandaid. Kaylee moped around, looking ready to burst into tears at the least criticism, and Mal didn't have the heart to dress her down about the noises and mechanical issues. Neumann worked doggedly on the grav modifiers and his papers, trying to keep out of everyone else's way, but he couldn't avoid River, who appeared to be flirting with him at every opportunity. About the only people on the boat not quarreling, Mal reflected, was him and Inara, and that also seemed a bit unnatural. It was disconcerting.

At the end of the trying day, all were gathered round the dinner table for the evening meal. Everyone except Ip Neumann was aware that Simon and Kaylee had upset the usual seating pattern by sitting as far away from each other as possible. He spoke to Kaylee, who sat opposite him, with particular friendliness. She seemed to be in a glum mood, and he hoped to cheer her up.

"Kaylee, I appreciate all your help tuning the gravitational modifiers," Ip said, serving himself from the bowl being handed round. "They're fussy machines, and not very many people are interested in taking the time to get to know their quirks."

Kaylee was uncharacteristically uncommunicative. "I just like machines, is all," she said, without making eye contact.

"Well, thanks for joining me on the job. It sure makes the endless adjustments a lot more fun."

Jayne took a large bite of his food. "Bleargh!" He let loose with a long string of graphically descriptive Chinese swearing. "Who made this slop?"

No one said a word, but Kaylee looked unhappily conscious.

Mal wasn't enjoying the food none, either, but thought the swearing just made it all the more distasteful. He intervened. "Jayne, you know our rules—no critique of the cooking. Unless you want cook duty for the next week." Privately, he was wondering if he'd be able to eat it himself. Jayne was famous for his cast-iron stomach.

"Jayne cook for a whole week, sir?" Zoe responded. "Who are you punishing?"

"Well, maybe I'd best reconsider—"

"The bitter tears of heartbreak have flavored the food," River pronounced.

"I think this gumbo tastes just fine," Neumann said. He gallantly picked up a thick and gelatinous spoonful and ate it, almost completely controlling his gag reflex.

"It's a stir-fry," said Kaylee in a small voice.

Neumann looked uncomfortable and Inara leapt in to change the topic. "You went to Harcliffe University on Bernadette, didn't you, Ip? They have a very fine natural sciences program, don't they?

"Yes," he answered. "I worked with Professor Rao, the 'Verse's finest terraformologist, in my opinion."

Simon clearly felt that sniping season was now open. "Isn't Rao considered an outlier in the field?" he asked, aggressively.

Neumann didn't register Simon's hostility, and simply answered the question. "She has a novel approach to the study of terraforming, to be sure. I think the rest of the field has yet to catch up to her."

"There are some at Eli University on Osiris who would argue that the field has left her far behind," Simon countered.

"There have always been those who disagree with her focus on field work, and discount her interest in the observations of eyewitnesses—lay people—non-scientists," Neumann returned. He had noticed Simon's hostility, but applied it to what he had been saying rather than taking it personally. It was a rather charming trait. "They think she's not focused enough on 'hard science.' But I think her many successes at figuring out the causes of some of the most intractable terraforming incidents of the past bear witness to the wisdom of this approach. A simple observation by an intelligent eyewitness—not always a scientist—has often given her the key to where to direct her research energies, and let her crack the case. I learned so much from her." He looked at Simon with genuine friendly interest and asked, "So you studied natural sciences at Eli University? It's a first-rate university." Neumann was impressed. "But I thought you were an M.D.?"

"I am an M.D.," Simon answered acidly. "I studied at Capital City MedAcad on Osiris. I also took some courses at Eli University."

"Best MedAcad on Osiris," Jayne chimed in. "Top three percent of his class." Jayne couldn't have said why the new doc annoyed him, but he desperately wanted Simon to win the sniping contest between the docs.

Neumann regarded Simon with respect. "You could have had your pick of internships, job positions."

"I was Assistant Chief of Emergent Interventions at Capital City Hospital and Senior Lecturer on Reconstructive Interventions at the MedAcad for three years before coming to Serenity."

"At your age?" Neumann was very impressed.

"My brother is very smart," River interjected, with just a hint of brattiness.

"So, why'd you come out here?" Neumann asked. "Ship's doctor doesn't seem like a very challenging position for someone with your credentials."

"You'd be surprised how much call there is for his expertise," Inara put in.

Mal shot Inara a look, and she felt him step on her foot under the table. She didn't understand why he felt the need for caution, but the signal was perfectly clear. She decided to trust Mal's judgment, and said no more.

"I wanted to—" Simon began, floundering a bit.

River interrupted. "He did it for _me_." Neumann looked at her. "I wanted to leave the Core. He gave up his position and everything he had to help me."

Now Simon interrupted River. "This is our home now. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." The last part he said with such a sarcastic edge in his voice that Kaylee began sniffling.

"Well, I guess I can relate," Neumann said, cheerfully. The entire crew thought, _"No, you can't!" _but Neumann couldn't hear it, of course. He continued on, unknowingly dropping his bombshell. "_I _wanted to get away from the Core, too. Leave the Core, see the Border worlds and get right on out to the terraforming sites on the Rim. Have some thrilling adventures investigating mysterious terraforming accident sites. That's why I left my job at Blue Sun and—"

Everybody looked at River. Their thought, _"Two by two, hands of blue,"_ was nearly palpable. Oddly enough, River was the only one who seemed unconcerned to hear that Neumann had been a Blue Sun employee. She had, in fact, known it from the time he first came aboard, and she was quite happy to hear Neumann's story.

"When did you leave Blue Sun?" Mal asked sharply. He knew what the answer should be, but wanted to see if Neumann changed his tune. It was a powerful odd coincidence, having a Blue Sun employee pop up on board, when they'd just finished delivering the secrets gathered by means of espionage to Blue Sun's corporate enemies. And nearly been blown out of the sky doing so. And why was he asking about Miranda?

"About three months ago."

"What was your position?" Mal fired off the questions rapidly. The man's story better hold up, or he'd be visiting the airlock.

"Assistant Research Fellow, Terraforming Division."

"Did you leave voluntarily?" Mal interrogated.

"Yes, I—"

"Why did you leave Blue Sun?" Mal followed up briskly.

"I just wanted to do field work. Blue Sun didn't allow junior science staff to visit any of their terraforming sites. We worked strictly with in-house data."

"Didn't know Blue Sun did any terraforming," Zoe said, in a low voice.

"They do almost _all _of the terraforming," Neumann replied.

"They make the equipment?" Mal asked.

"They make the equipment, they install it, they design the entire terraforming process. But it's all by proxy. New Worlds Corporation, on 尘球 Chén Qíu, and dozens of others like it, are all divisions of the Blue Sun Conglomerate."

Man's story was consistent enough, Mal decided. He'd still treat him with due caution. He decided to play it casual. "So those competitive bids for terraforming contracts are just Blue Sun against itself?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Neumann replied.

"That just ain't right. I have to bid against a 'Verse of transport captains just to get a contract and scrape by. Blue Sun bids against itself—been setting its own terms for years, I reckon. No wonder they make a better living." The fellow wasn't gonna be on his boat long enough to find out anything important.

. . .

.

.

.

glossary

聪明 cōngming [brilliant]

妹妹 mèimei [little sister]

尘球 Chén Qiú [name of a world]

混蛋 húndàn [bastard]

泥球 Ní Qiú [name of a world]


	2. Chapter 2

Break Out, Part 2a

_Confrontations. Lots of them._

_A/N: Hi folks. New strategy here. Shorter chapters, more frequent posting. See how it works. Let me know if you like it._

* * *

><p>When, by evening, Simon and Kaylee still hadn't shown signs of kissing and making up, Mal decided it was time to intervene more actively. He headed to the engine room, where an intermittent grinding sound was issuing forth from the moving parts. Kaylee was not working on the engine. She was sitting in her hammock.<p>

"Kaylee! Those aren't happy ship noises. What's going on?" He saw she was crying, and asked, "What's going on, li'l Kaylee?"

She tried to stop her tears. "Sorry, Cap'n."

"Hey, 妹妹 mèimei," he said, giving her a hug and dropping a kiss on top of her head. "I'm sorry you're hurtin'. You and Simon have a fight?" It wasn't really a question.

She nodded.

"All his fault? Should I toss him out the airlock?"

"No, Cap'n. He's just jealous 'cause I been kind to the new fellow."

"What sort of kindness we talkin' about, Kaylee?"

"It's not nothin' Cap'n, just ordinary hello and how are you kindness. I wouldn't mind Simon being a little jealous—'cause I know he loves me. But Simon's acting like I been whoring with the new guy, or somethin'. It's beyond all reason."

"I suppose he don't see that you're not the kind of woman would play false to her love," Mal said, seeing clearly in others that which he could not see in himself.

"'Course I'm not," she answered. "I chose Simon, the 混球 húnqiú, and I intend to stick with him."

"Don't get too friendly with Neumann," Mal cautioned.

"Now it's you, too!" Kaylee exclaimed. "What's wrong with bein' civil to people?"

"Well, it ain't that, it's just he ain't gonna be on this boat for long."

"You said that about Simon."

"Yeah, well, I mean it about Neumann," Mal said. "He's just here to supervise the grav cargo. Once we deliver, we drop him off at Persephone, we'll never see him again. But that's not what I meant. No, you see, you go about bein' friendly to a fellow, pretty girl like you, he's like to misinterpret it. Read too much into it."

"I ain't flirtin' with him! It's just bein' civil, that's clear to anyone what's usin' their brain."

"I ain't sayin' you're flirting, Kaylee. But men-folk don't always think too clearly when there's a pretty girl involved. Don't think with their brains, if you know what I mean."

Kaylee looked at him in a manner he couldn't interpret. "I guess I can see that," she said, thinking about how the Captain tended to behave around Inara.

"Now, Kaylee, you just try to pull yourself together. You been hurtin' and now Serenity's hurtin'." Kaylee straightened up, and seemed to notice the engine noises for the first time. "You see to fixin' the ship, and I'll see to gettin' Simon to see reason. Top three percent and all, I expect him to _use_ his brain."

. . .

Ip Neumann asked River if he might use the cortex link on the bridge to send a wave, and she readily agreed. She helped him set it up, and figuring he might like a little privacy, she set the autopilot and left him to make his call. Ip was feeling the need to talk to a friendly face—someone who would understand his particular problem—so he pulled out an electronic card and plugged it into the cortex screen. If he had been watching _very _closely, he might have seen a digital code flash briefly across the screen, the kind of code that Mr Universe had referred to as "Alliance and high military." But Ip blinked, and he missed it. There was a brief pause while the connection was made, and then the friendly, soulful face of Brother Chan 'eil Càil an so a' Faicadh filled the screen.

"Dr Neumann! Good to see you. How does your research go?"

"The research, that's fine," Ip answered. "I've drafted a paper about 尘球 Chén Qíu. It just needs a bit of polishing, and I'll submit it. I even had help from an unexpected source—found a proofreader right aboard Serenity, of all places."

"You weren't expecting that."

"Oh, I don't know what I was expecting," Ip said, in a dispirited way. "I—the crew of this ship just baffles me."

"Baffles you? Whatever do you mean?"

"It's an assortment of geniuses and thugs. Some of them are both at the same time. I'm warmly welcomed, like an old friend, and then all of a sudden they circle the wagons and I'm on the outside of the circle. The most puzzling of all is the Captain."

"Why do you say that?" Brother Chan 'eil Càil regarded him quizzically.

"Well, you know how I have a bee in my bonnet about the terraforming accident sites." His friend gave a knowing smile. "I could even say you're responsible for my predicament."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you're the one who told me the Captain had been to Miranda."

"I did," Brother Chan 'eil Càil agreed placidly.

"And that's why I decided to take the supercargo job on his ship. I signed on in hopes of interviewing an eyewitness. And yet, every time I approach the topic—that's when they circle the wagons. The most closed off of all is the Captain."

Brother Chan 'eil Càil considered for a moment. Then he said, "Dr Neumann, what did you learn from that broadwave about Miranda?" Ip opened his mouth to speak, but the other cut him off. "Not about the _science_, about the _event._"

"The scientist in the record said that there had been no terraforming event," Ip answered. "She said that many people had died. That other people had become…Reavers."

"_When_ did that event happen?"

"I don't know exactly—the recording didn't mention the date. I know that when I looked at the Miranda data in the office of my department head at Blue Sun—that was about half a year ago—the report indicated several catastrophic terraforming events as the likely cause of the settlement's failure."

"So you don't really know _when_ the event happened. How many people died on Miranda, Dr Neumann? Do you recall?"

"Thirty million," Ip said, softly.

"Yes. And the Captain visited recently, after the devastation of the planet. Do you really expect someone who has recently seen hundreds, thousands—perhaps millions—of dead bodies to want to talk about it? Would _you_ want to talk about it?"

"No," Ip acknowledged. To tell the truth, he had been so much focused on the science, the mystery, that he had lost sight of the human tragedy that had occurred on Miranda.

"The only way you'll hear this story is to gain the Captain's trust. You'll need time, patience—and a good supply of less controversial terraforming accidents to investigate—to gain the trust of the Captain and the crew. Make yourself useful to them, and they'll want to keep you aboard. That will give you the time. The rest is up to you."

. . .

Zoe knew she was pregnant. The wonder to her was, how anyone else had escaped noticing it. Of course Simon knew. He had confirmed that she was pregnant with the standard urine test, and estimated the date of conception. Zoe didn't need an estimate. She knew this baby was conceived the last night they were on Haven, after River had busted up the Maidenhead Bar but before the 狗屎 gǒushǐ really hit the fan, with the Operative coming after them.

Inara was the first to notice. She was deeply intuitive, and very good at reading people's body language. She had suggested the possibility to Zoe, when Zoe herself was still in denial about the whole idea of it. With Wash gone, she hadn't allowed herself to consider it. If she believed it, and then it turned out not to be true, she didn't think she could bear the second loss. So she'd deceived herself, rationalizing her missed cycle as the result of stress.

Mal knew, but didn't know he knew. He'd noticed all the signs, seen that his best friend wasn't acting her usual self. She'd seen him notice—that she was queasy, that she craved salty, fatty foods, eating with unnatural avidity, then pushing away her meal in sudden revulsion. He'd seen the glow in her skin, her hair, her eyes. He'd noticed her moods, and he was an expert in interpreting her subtlest looks and gestures. He'd definitely noticed—but had the grace not to comment on—her sleepiness, and the lapses of duty it had led to. (She thought with regret again about the time when the nav sats blew up and the ship drifted way off course during her watch. He had confined his reprimand to a look he knew she would understand.) But he didn't have the experience to add up the signs into the notion of "baby." He had never really considered the possibility of a baby—_any _baby—aboard Serenity. He'd have to figure that one out, and it would take a while for him to wrap his head around that idea. That was still the main blockage—why he didn't know he knew. She'd have to tell him soon.

But Zoe knew. Her pants, already form-fitting, were barely wearable. She'd need to buy bigger ones next stop planetside. No matter that no one else could see the bulge. She knew it was there, got reminded every time she sat down, every time she tried to _move_, gorrammit. Her leather vest was expandable, thank goodness, and would do for another month or two. But what concerned her most was the body armor. Form-fitting for the practical reason that you had to have uninhibited movement in a firefight, and unyielding by its very nature, the body armor was already a problem. Her body knew the baby was coming long before she acknowledged it herself, and her body had already begun preparations for the new arrival. Breast tissue was building up in volume, making ready for the milk necessary to feed the new life. Although she could still get it on, the body armor chafed in some powerfully tender areas, and she knew it would just get worse.

. . .

Simon confronted him in the cargo bay just as he began his round of balancing the grav modifiers. Neumann tried to speak reasonably, but Simon was angry, and the conversation quickly escalated to a shouting match. The grav modifiers were already in dire need of attention, and as the two men engaged in their verbal sparring, several of the crates began to list, lifting off their pallets.

"Back off, Neumann!" Simon growled.

"Are you threatening me?"

"No," Simon said sarcastically. "This is how I talk to people politely."

"Why is everyone on this ship so hostile?"

"You haven't seen hostile yet." Simon hadn't spent the last year and a half as a fugitive, hiding in the Black with outlaws, battling Feds, thugs, and Reavers, for nothing. Compared to an intellectual fresh from the Core, he was much tougher, and he knew it.

"It's like there's some kind of secret—"

"You're one to talk," Simon sneered.

"I don't have a secret," Ip protested. "I've been up front about everything. But every time I open my mouth, someone gets cryptic, hostile, or sarcastic. Everyone except Kaylee."

" Of course, everyone except Kaylee!" Simon had pushed Neumann up against the bulkhead and was staring at him with an intimidating glare, in his best imitation of Mal, when Mal himself entered the bay.

"Hey! What the 地狱 dìyù is this?" Mal demanded, pushing the two men apart. He directed his orders to Neumann. "Get these gorram crates secured before they take off and wreck my ship. You got a job, do it. Simon, I need to see you in the infirmary." Simon opened his mouth. "马上 Mǎshàng." His look said he would brook no argument.

Simon did not argue. Mal was just so much better at being Mal.

. . .

.

.

.

glossary

妹妹 mèimei [little sister]

混球 húnqiú [jerk]

狗屎 gǒushǐ [crap]

地狱 dìyù [hell]

马上 Mǎshàng [Now]

* * *

><p><em>AN: Alright, folks. This is where I whine for reviews. Yoo-hoo! Anybody out there? Big thanks to those who have already reviewed._


	3. Chapter 3

Break Out, Part 2b

_More confrontations_

_A/N: Many thanks to those of you who reviewed, especially the people who commented for the first time. I appreciate the encouraging words._

* * *

><p>The Captain led the way into the infirmary, shut the door behind them, and activated the privacy screens. Then he turned to Simon and spoke forcefully. "Simon, you're on my crew and he ain't. But I can't have grav modifiers sailing around unsecured in the cargo bay of my ship. He's got a job to do, and I can't have you distracting him from his duty."<p>

"Captain, I realize that I let a personal issue interfere—" Simon began.

Mal interrupted. "I know you got a personal issue with him. Hell, your personal issue has affected the running of the whole boat—from the engine whining from neglect to people can't eat their dinners in peace. I don't appreciate that I gotta be intervening in everybody's jobs to put 'em back on track. You gotta put a lid on those personal issues."

"Captain, those 'personal issues' are—"

Mal talked right over him. "Besides, what do you mean, accusing Kaylee of such a thing?"

Simon's gut reaction spoke first. "I didn't accuse her of—" he sputtered, realizing, "of—what do you mean?"

"Listen, Simon, the bulkhead between Kaylee's bunk and mine is…thin." Simon reddened. He was well aware of it. "I know you two had words. And Kaylee ain't doin' what you think she's doin' with Neumann. She's just being ordinary friendly."

Simon exploded. " 'Friendly'! Captain, she goes _out of her way_ to be alone with him—I've seen her _touch_ him—"

"Whoa, whoa there, Simon. You seen her touch_ me_, _kiss_ me even—you think that means something unseemly is goin' on between us?"

"No, of course not."

"Simon, Kaylee's a jewel. She's got a spark of joy in her like nobody I ever seen. She loves most everybody in the 'Verse—even a mean old man like me. Only sees the good in people. But _you_—you she loves more. Can't for the life of me figure out what she sees in you, but see it she does. And it makes her miserable that you'd think so poorly on her to accuse her of being false to you. Breaks her heart."

"You're turning the tables on me," Simon protested. "Now _I've _broken _her_ heart!"

"Do you love her?" Mal demanded.

"Yes," Simon answered, in a fierce whisper.

"Then I'm thinking you owe her an apology."

Simon sputtered. _He _was the aggrieved party.

"And after you tell her you're sorry for not trusting her, do something really nice for her. Show her how much you care about her," Mal advised. "She won't even look at that other fellow if she's sure you love her. Don't get all angry and withdrawn."

"Coming from _you_, this relationship advice is…very funny."

"Glad you found some humor in it," Mal said, rolling up his sleeve. "Now, I could use your doctoring services. Time for my monthly inoculation."

. . .

Inara invited Kaylee to her shuttle to talk. Kaylee arrived looking upset, and burst into tears as soon as Inara closed the shuttle door. Inara made her a cup of tea and let her release her feelings. Kaylee was angry as well as upset, and her tears were mixed with harsh words directed at Simon. Inara talked soothingly and brushed Kaylee's hair. Gradually, Kaylee became calmer, but couldn't quite stop sniffling.

"Kaylee, 妹妹 mèimei, I'm sure you and Simon can work through this."

"He called me a whore," Kaylee said indignantly, tears on her face.

"And how many times has Mal called _me _a whore?" Inara asked.

"But you a—Mal—Cap'n—that's different. Inara, you know it is. Comin' from Simon. He's just being so unreasonable!"

"Is he?"

"Hell, yes," Kaylee retorted. "He's all jealous and I ain't done nothing. I'm just being friendly, ordinary friendly. It's how normal people behave."

"Normal people?" Inara arched an eyebrow.

"Simon's gettin' all bent outta shape over nothin'," Kaylee stated firmly.

Inara spoke in calm but firm tone. "It's not 'nothing' if Simon—and Dr Neumann—don't also agree that it's nothing."

"What do you mean?"

Inara gave a sigh. She knew all too well about this kind of situation. "Kaylee, you remind me of my friend Catriona."

"How's that?" Kaylee asked, knowing that Inara had a story to tell.

Inara began the tale. "She and I were roommates, at the Academy, early on. Best friends, back then. She was from Juno Moon, and during our term breaks, she'd go back home—"

"Who wouldn't?" Kaylee interjected. "Ain't Juno Moon famous for the beautiful scenery? I even heard of it on Harvest. All the tourist adverts make it seem like a paradise."

"Oh, it's every bit as beautiful as the tourist adverts make out—and then some. I even made a visit to Catriona there, just so I could take in the scenery. Anyway, some time in our fifth year, a fellow named Whitton joined our dance class. He seemed like a friendly sort of guy and he started hanging around with a group of us after class. Then he started playing the lute, so he could join the music class as well. Catriona—well, I've said she was like you—she was very warm-hearted and friendly to everybody. Whitton began to follow her around like a puppy dog. All of us could see that he came just to be with her, but she accepted at face value what he said about wanting to learn to dance, and play the lute, and everything else that we were doing together. And when she went home for summer break to Juno Moon, he made plans to follow her. She believed he came to Juno to see the scenery—who wouldn't? But she hadn't heard what he told other people.

"He'd been talking for weeks about how he was going to see this girl on Juno, and he hoped her father liked him. He'd built up an entire relationship in his head—because _he _was infatuated with her—and he took every friendly word she said to him to be an encouragement of his most ardent wishes. He was nearly ready to propose to her when he discovered what was perfectly obvious to everyone else—that she was committed to training for being a Companion, that she had no intention of abandoning her chosen career for him. He was nearly suicidal, and ranted about how she had deceived him."

Inara paused, remembering the hours-long conversation she'd had with Whitton the night he found out, starting in the student café, talking, walking, ending in the rooms she shared with Catriona, still talking, a circular conversation that seemed impossible to end. He had sought Inara out, as a friend, and poured his heart out in her ear, hoping she would say something about Catriona that would let him love her or make him hate her. Inara had felt like she was walking the razor's edge, trying not to say anything that would send him away in suicidal despair, but unwilling to lie and give substance to his unreasonable hopes. It had been completely exhausting. Inara had become aware partway through the latter half of the endless conversation that Catriona had returned to their rooms ahead of them and was pinned in the back room, unable to move, unable to avoid listening, because Whitton would not be consoled, and would not leave. "She never had any intention other than to be 'ordinarily friendly,' as you put it," Inara continued. "But he felt she did. Men can misinterpret a friendly manner—especially if that fits in with their dearest desires."

Kaylee didn't reply, but she looked thoughtful.

. . .

Mal waited until Neumann had finished adjusting the grav modifiers and settled them all safely back down in place, then he confronted him in the cargo bay.

"Dr Neumann." Mal began the dressing-down formally.

"Captain," Neumann responded with a friendly smile.

"I'm not appreciating what you've been doing to upset the smooth running of my boat."

"Captain, I'm truly sorry about the grav modifiers. I've done my best to put that right, and I promise not to neglect them—"

"I ain't talkin' about the grav modifiers," Mal interrupted. "You're upsetting my mechanic."

"Kaylee? Have I upset her?" Neumann was concerned. "I certainly don't want that, I'm actually becoming very fond of—"

"That's the problem, see. She don't need some 傲慢 àomàn 过度教育 guòdù jiàoyù piece of 狗屎 gǒushǐ doctor mooning after her, on account of she's already got herself one."

"What? She—"

"You've upset my mechanic and you sure as 地狱 dìyù 've upset my medic," Mal continued. "If they can't do their jobs on account of you settin' yourself into the middle of their relationship, my boat don't run smooth. I don't need nobody on my boat makes things not smooth."

Neumann was disconcerted. He hadn't noticed. This explained a lot of the hostility. "Kaylee—Simon—I didn't know—"

"You were contracted to supervise the cargo. To see it safe to 泥球 Ní Qiú. That's all. I expect you to do what you were contracted to do, and not to interfere with the crew of my boat in any capacity. If you can't fulfill your end of the deal, I'll have to reconsider my end."

Now that he understood, Neumann rose to his own defense. "Captain, I intend to fulfill my part of the contract. But there's no reason to call my interactions with the crew 'interference.' "

"Did you not hear what I've just been saying?"

"Of course, Captain. But I disagree. It's unjust to attribute my attempts to get better acquainted with my shipmates to some malicious desire to interfere with the regular conduct of the ship. The terms of my contract—"

"Contract be damned. If you throw a wrench into the smooth running of my ship, I'll leave you on 泥球 Ní Qiú and let you hitchhike home. You want to stay on my boat, you'd better make yourself useful, and don't disrupt the smooth working of my crew."

. . .

Having done what he could to set the internal affairs of Serenity in order, Mal set about the next order of captainly business. They had a paying job taking them to 泥球 Ní Qiú, and some funds to spare, but much of the pay from the Holden Brothers job had already gone into food and fuel, and he'd be needing to find a job on 泥球 Ní Qiú to fund the trip to Persephone. Problem was, 泥球 Ní Qiú really was just about the end of the galaxy as far as paying work was concerned, and he had very few contacts there. He waved them all, one after another, investigating the possibility of getting either a cargo or at least a job. He was finishing up his last call, with much the same result as all the others, when Inara entered the bridge.

"Well, if you _do _have any leads on a cargo we might be able to haul off 泥球 Ní Qiú for you, I'd sure appreciate you sendin' me a wave," Mal said in his most pleasant tone, with a pleasant look on his face. "Thanks for takin' the time." He shut off the communication and exhaled his frustration.

"So pleasant, Mal," Inara said, placing her hands on his shoulders.

" 'S just an act, Inara," Mal said, looking up at her. "Gotta make 'em think I'm a nice guy, so's they give me work."

"Must be hard work, being nice to people."

"Can be," he answered automatically. Then he registered what she had said. "Hey! Harrumph."

Inara suddenly leaned over and kissed him. She sat down in Mal's lap, wrapping her arms around him. He was surprised, but pleased. They were alone on the bridge, and he indulged in the pleasant distraction from work and worries, kissing her and enjoying her warm presence in his lap. After a while, he pulled up and asked, "So, you come up here just to kiss me and sit in my lap? Or did you have an ulterior motive? Not that the kissing's unwelcome or anything."

"I must confess to having an ulterior motive," Inara said, laughingly. "Mal, the restaurants on 尘球 Chén Qíu were all very fine, and I'm sure 泥球 Ní Qiú offers much the same kind of diversions, but I really need to visit a more civilized planet soon, so I came up here to make my humble request."

"What kind of civilized planet might that be?" he asked, knowing full well that their next stop after 泥球 Ní Qiú was Persephone, but he wanted to hear what her idea of 'civilized' was.

"Well, Beaumonde, Boros, Persephone, even Greenleaf or Verbena. I hope I'm not being unreasonable."

Something about the glibness of her response raised his hackles. "And may I ask _why_ you need to—?"

"It's the Guild business again, Mal," Inara said quickly. "And it's urgent. I need to take care of it."

" 'Guild business'," Mal repeated slowly. "Can't you just send 'em a wave, Inara?"

"There's someone I need to meet face to face."

"You need to meet 'em face to face, but it can happen on any one of half a dozen planets? Inara, there's something you're not telling me."

"I can't tell you more. Please, Mal, trust me. This business really is urgent."

"You ain't been in touch with the Guild for weeks, and now suddenly it's urgent? Inara, this just don't hold water. What is really going on?"

"Please, Mal, just…please," Inara pleaded, willing him to understand.

"Why don't you just tell me what's up?"

"I can't, Mal."

"Can't? Or won't?" Mal demanded.

"I just…can't."

"Perhaps you'd like to be gettin' up offa my lap here."

"I'm comfortable with where I am."

"Well—I ain't. Not when you're keeping secrets from me and lying about it."

Inara jumped up angrily. "Mal!"

"I oughtta a' known better 'n to take up with a lying whore."

Inara slapped his face and stormed off the bridge. Anger carried her to her shuttle, but the tears came as soon as the door was shut behind her.

. . .

.

.

.

glossary

妹妹 mèimei [little sister]

傲慢 àomàn [jumped-up]

过度教育 guòdù jiàoyù [over-educated]

狗屎 gǒushǐ [crap]

地狱 dìyù [hell]

泥球 Ní Qiú [name of a world]

尘球 Chén Qíu [name of a world]


	4. Chapter 4

Break Out, Part 3a

_Mal and the crew discover the dirty secret of the terraforming operation._

* * *

><p>It was raining hard when Mal brought Serenity in over the spreading boughs of a giant monkeypod tree and past a stand of candlenut trees for a somewhat rough landing at 泥球 Ní Qiú Field. Like 尘球 Chén Qíu, 泥球 Ní Qiú served as the staging area for the terraforming operation on a nearby moon. The terraforming operation was still in the early stages, and 泥球 Ní Qiú Field served almost entirely as an import center, with very little being produced on the world for export. Mal checked in with the tower for the weather report. There seemed to be only two kinds of weather in the forecast: raining, and about to rain.<p>

The receiving agent for the cargo of grav modifiers maintained an office in the middle of town, and Mal, Jayne, and Neumann took advantage of a brief lull in the downpour to pay him a visit. They squelched along the muddy track that separated the shabby rows of single-story wooden buildings. The agent's office was elevated out of the mud on pilings, which also seemed to be the only thing that kept it from being swallowed up by rampant strawberry guava, bougainvillea, and ferns. It was a modest-sized wooden building with four long wooden steps running the entire length of the street front. Most of the front side of the building was open to the street, affording a full view of the activity in town, and business was conducted underneath a tin roof with eaves extending far beyond the walls to keep the rain from driving in.

The meet and greet was interrupted only minutes into the start by a sudden downpour that clattered on the tin roof with such a racket that for a few minutes conversation was impossible. When they could hear again, Mal continued, "Neumann here took good care of your cargo, those crates didn't lift off our deck even once the whole voyage. Kept 'em nice and stable. Jayne, leave go of that." He shot Jayne a warning look, as the man reached into a box stacked at the side of the shelter. "Don't take what ain't yours."

Jayne returned the food ration packet to the box and grumbled, "Nothin' to eat around here."

Their attention was drawn by a gang of ragged, muddy people, slogging heavily through the mud. They were being herded by guards or foremen wearing raincoats. As they passed the office, Mal saw that their difficulty moving was mainly due to the leg irons they wore. The foremen herded the people onto a crappy-looking open transport, unsheltered from the pouring rain.

Jayne spoke up. "That what they do to people who steal around here?" He emptied his pockets of a surprising number of food packets, and put them back in the box.

"Oh, they aren't criminals," the cargo agent replied. "They're the terraforming workers."

"Ain't that a harsh way to treat indentured laborers?" Mal asked.

"They aren't indentured," the agent replied. "They're slaves."

"Slaves?" Mal kept his tone carefully neutral.

"It's an open secret that the most dangerous parts of the terraforming work are generally done by slaves," the agent said, as Ip regarded him with an unreadable expression.

It was Jayne who spoke next. "Thought the Alliance don't allow no slavery."

"Well, that's the law of the land, sure," the cargo agent said. "But there's the law, and there's…reality. No one wants to do the rough work of terraforming, so the only people can be got to do it are slaves. I don't like it, but you work out here long enough, you just come to tolerate it."

"So where are they taking the…slaves?" Mal inquired, in a controlled voice.

"They're off to Delta Moon for a two-week shift. It's dreadful hard work, but those grav modifiers you brought are gonna help 'em out a lot. Once they're installed, and the gravity goes closer to Earth-norm, the work'll be easier. It's tough on the heavy grav moons, wears down the connective tissue something fierce. 'Course on the light grav moons, you bounce around free as a bird 'til the grav modifiers are installed, so I guess it balances out."

"So, when they finish the shift, they get some time off, don't they? Go to a nice place for some well-deserved R 'n' R?" Mal wanted to keep the conversation going.

The agent didn't mind talking. "Well, that's the sad bit. They don't really get much of a break. Just the shuttle ride, they get to experience the weightlessness of space…"

"They use ships with no artificial gravity?" If the ships didn't even have working artificial grav systems, Mal hated to think about how obsolete all the other systems must be.

"Gives the bones a rest," the agent said cheerfully. "But depending where we are in orbit, the ride may be no more 'n thirty minutes."

"That ain't much of a break for two weeks' work."

"And when they get back here, there's still work to be done, off-loading supply ships, loading up the gear onto the short-range transports, and what not. But I think they view that work as a kind of holiday, compared with the terraforming."

"Where do they live?" Mal asked casually.

"You're mighty interested in the slave laborers," the agent said, giving Mal a keen look. "You an abolitionist?"

"I'm thinking of going into business," Mal said, easily. Jayne immediately recognized the Captain's facetious voice, and played along. "Always lookin' for cargo. Ain't never tried hauling slaves. I'd like to see their housing so's to know how I'd need to rig the ship."

The agent gave a bit of a sigh. "We get plenty of abolitionists nosing around. They come here, talk about how bad conditions is, and all, and then they go away, and nothin' changes. Nobody ever does a gorram thing about it."

. . .

Mal and Jayne returned to Serenity, squelching through the ubiquitous mud that seemed to coat the entire surface of the planet. By this time, Mal had detected a pattern to the 泥球 Ní Qiú weather. The downpours arrived suddenly and with force, dumping bucketloads of water in minutes, and then, once everything was good and soaked, it kept up a sad, relentless piss of rain that effectively kept at bay any hope of getting warm and dry. Then the rain would resolve into a kind of filthy wetness that didn't fall from the sky—hat nor umbrella did no good—it just sort of misted around everywhere and kept everything wet. Eventually the mist would resolve into "about to rain" and the whole cycle would repeat itself.

The cargo agent had been as good as his word, and had shown Mal, Jayne, and Neumann more human misery than Mal had seen anywhere since the war. The locals seemed not to notice the slaves—they looked past the chained gangs of slaves slogging through the muddy streets like they weren't there. While Mal, Jayne, and Neumann had attracted curious stares from passersby, the locals didn't even seem to see the slave-pen that appalled Mal. Mal applied himself to keeping a poker face and keeping his comments to the cargo agent carefully neutral, but inside it was all he could do to choke back the revulsion he felt observing the conditions these people lived in, while the agent casually explained how the slaves were housed and fed. Mal was glad that Zoe was not with him, for she would have seen immediately that he was seething with suppressed fury, and the flash of her eyes might have given them away. Jayne, for once, said nothing, and Mal thought he was reading the man correctly in figuring that he'd discovered another one of Jayne's carefully hidden moral principles. Neumann hadn't been as good at hiding his indignation, and not being as adept at reading Mal as Zoe or even Jayne, he was taken in by the Captain's casual responses to the cargo agent's talk. Neumann had become more and more agitated, and eventually announced that he was going in search of a cortex connection, saying he needed to check in with Holden Brothers to confirm the safe delivery of the cargo. Mal was glad to have him out of his hair for the moment. He had some planning to do.

. . .

Neumann was appalled. Just what had he got himself into? He always had known that terraforming involved some incredibly difficult and dangerous work, and that usually the workers who did it were ones who were more desperate—couldn't find safer work, desperately needed the money, or found themselves obligated to do the work to pay off debts or work off indentures. Somehow, in his innocence, he had figured that these workers were adequately compensated for the risks they took. To be confronted with the reality of it was very harsh. They weren't indentured, and they sure as hell weren't volunteers—_they were slaves. _It was sickening. He thought back to all the times he had suggested, hinted, applied and directly requested his supervisor, back at the corporation, to allow him to travel to the terraforming sites to do field work. Had she just been protecting him from the knowledge? Had she known that he would encounter slavery—the brutal, unalloyed use of human chattel to do work that should have been done some other way—and had she, knowing his sensitivity, had she wanted to spare him from the dirty, dark secret of terraforming?

And now it appeared that he had signed on to serve a captain who would willingly participate in the sickening slave trade. Who stood there calmly asking about the best way to load human beings on his ship as if they were cargo, who coolly asked about provisions and bedding as if those human beings were no more than livestock. And who did it right in front of the very human beings who had been enslaved and were forced to labor with no respite. It was revolting. Captain Reynolds was an enigma to Ip Neumann. Closed-off, cynical, violent—everything that Ip himself was not. Neumann began to question his own naïveté in signing on with the crew of Serenity. Not even finding out about the terraforming mystery on Miranda was worth associating with someone so morally compromised that he could so nonchalantly consider entering into the slave trade. Ip began to feel glad that he would be leaving the ship on Persephone. How could a sweet girl like Kaylee, an educated lady like Inara, an intelligent man like Simon associate themselves with such scum?

. . .

.

.

.

泥球 Ní Qiú [name of a world]

尘球 Chén Qíu [name of a world]

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><p><em>AN: Reviews are much appreciated! Next update coming soon..._


	5. Chapter 5

Break Out, Part 3b

_Mal concocts a plan._

* * *

><p>Mal gathered the crew for a conference. Kaylee and Simon stood aloof from one another. It was clear they had still not made up. Inara was still angry with Mal, and kept to her shuttle. Neumann was not to be trusted, and Mal had excluded him from the discussion. River stood mooning about on the far end of the room, with a far-away look on her face, yet Mal knew she was taking everything in.<p>

"…So you, and Jayne, and I will escort the people in three groups," Mal said to Zoe. "Albatross'll be standing by keeping the engines warm. I've already cleared our take-off time with Port Authority, so it won't come as no surprise when Serenity lifts off. What's on your mind, Zoe?"

"Sir, have you thought about the defenses?"

"Zoe, Jayne and I did a full recon. It's a simple Osom barrier. Piece of cake to penetrate. They're not kept shackled except when they're being transported to Delta Moon. Guarding when they're in the pen is minimal—everyone on this 狗屎 gǒushǐ moon knows they're kept there, and they deliberately turn their backs and don't look. All we gotta do is knock out the guard who keeps the key."

"Sir, are you forgetting what happened on 尘球 Chén Qíu?"

"I ain't forgotten," Mal said, rubbing the tender skin around his left eye.

"It was easy opening the door," Zoe started, heating up as she spoke. "But those people had no idea how to get out. Had no idea how to keep to cover. And they were incapable of moving without making a hell of a noise. Then there were the swarms of armed goons who came out of Nilsen's headquarters soon as they figured out something was up. I doubt more than a few of them got away, even as far as the town. Hell, we're lucky _we _got away. Sir."

"You're telling me this is a hare-brained plan?"

"Just asking if you've really thought it through, sir." Zoe was giving him another one of those looks. The _You're-about-to-do-something-stupid_ Look, it was.

"Oh, but I have, Zoe," Mal responded. "I learned from that fiasco on 尘球 Chén Qíu. And this time I mean not just to open the door of the cage, but to get those people out and away completely. Jayne and I scouted it out. We've got several routes planned to get the folks back to Serenity, so if we run into trouble, we've got alternatives. We scoped out the sheriff's office, got intel on the number of officers and shifts, so we can likely avoid any direct encounters with the law on this rock."

"And if we can't avoid a direct 'encounter with the law'?" Zoe asked, with her brow arched.

"Then I'll initiate a diversion, and you and Jayne carry on with the plan to get the people to the ship." Mal paused to give Zoe an opportunity to speak.

"A diversion, sir?" Zoe was, to her cost, familiar with Mal's diversions. Most of them fell into the They-don't-like-it-when-you-shoot-at-them category.

"Nothin' stupid, Zoe," Mal said, correctly reading her expression. "Incendiary device to a tool shop, north side of the slave pen. Not nobody there at nighttime, so no one gets hurt. But they'll want to save the tools from burnin' up, so it'll attract their attention away from our lines of retreat." He turned to Simon and Kaylee. "Now, your role is to prep the ship to receive our…uh, guests. I want water tanks completely filled, that's gonna be our biggest stretch." He handed Kaylee a modest bag of coin. "Buy what food you can get with this. I know there ain't much on offer around here. With the food stores and medicines we got aboard, allowing time for the trip to Persephone, I figure the maximum number of people we can accommodate is twenty-four."

"Twenty-four!" Kaylee exclaimed. "Where're we gonna keep them?"

"Cargo bay," Mal replied.

"They can't sleep there!" Kaylee objected.

"Sure they can."

"Don't have twenty-four beds, Captain. Nor even twenty-four blankets. I can't go buyin' up all that here on 泥球 Ní Qiú without somebody wondering was we plannin' on throwin' a slumber party on Serenity."

"No need to buy beds," Mal answered. "Got thirty-six cargo containers, each filled with nice soft, warm packing materials. Better 'n Zoe and I had during the war, many a night." The others were looking at him like he was missing his marbles. "What? I offered to haul the empty grav modifier crates off planet for recycling. That's our official cargo."

. . .

The operation began well after dark. Mal, Zoe, and Jayne donned dark clothing and earwig communicators. They were well-armed and carried a few more specialized tools. During a lull in the rain, they arrived at a quiet, dark part of the muddy town, where a barrack-type building stood in a clearing. There was no sign of a fence, but a little guard's hut stood nearby on one side. With Jayne on lookout, Zoe snuck up behind the guard and dropped him silently with one of the stealthy moves she specialized in. One pump of the sedative nasal spray and the man would be out cold for more than an hour. Mal pulled out one of his tools and efficiently deactivated the invisible Osom barrier fence. Zoe, using a key taken from the guard, unlocked the door of the building.

Mal and Zoe opened the door to the building and entered with weapons drawn. "Nobody make a sound. Hands in the air." They looked armed and dangerous, and the people within the building obeyed. That was of course the idea. Most of them had been lying on the wooden shelves stacked three high that served as their cots. Zoe motioned for them to stand, keeping their hands in the air.

Mal spoke in his sergeant voice. "No words. Just nod your head yes or shake no when I ask the questions. We're not here to harm you. Anybody being kept here against their will?" There were lots of nods. "Anybody being made to work without being paid a fair wage?" More nods, as the people began to catch the drift. "Anybody been made a slave?" Nods all around. "I can take twenty-four of you off-planet to an abolitionist group on Persephone, where you got a chance at freedom. It's not without some risk. Anybody wants to take that chance, understand that you're putting yourself under my command until we get there. If you're willing to accept the risk, step to the right, in line. If not, stay put."

Mal and Zoe made short work of organizing the slaves into units for escape. They issued strict instructions about keeping silence, sticking together, and following orders. Checking with Jayne for an all-clear, Zoe took the first group out into the dark streets, moving, if not in complete silence, at least without talking, running from cover to cover following her lead. As Mal organized the next two groups to go with Jayne and with himself, the rain began falling again. Suddenly Jayne's voice crackled in his earwig comm.

"Mal, we got incoming. Sheriff's officers headin' toward you. Two on 'em."

"Jayne, take both groups," Mal instructed. "I'll initiate the diversion."

Jayne's form loomed up out of the darkness. He stretched his eyes when he saw the number of people he was to lead to Serenity, but he didn't blink. Jayne waited silently for Mal's diversion to distract the sheriff's men.

Mal beat around the far side of the barrack building, moving from cover to cover, approaching the tool shop. The 泥球 Ní Qiú weather had settled into a heavy downpour, and the street was rapidly becoming a river of mud again. As soon as he was within range, Mal activated an incendiary device and lobbed it onto the roof of the tool shop. It flew in a glowing arc up to the roof, bounced once on the shingles, and rolled off the side. It fell into a mud pit beside the building. Mal heard a very much muffled "boom" as the device exploded ineffectively in the mud pit, throwing up a geyser of mud that splattered the building but caused no other damage.

"大象爆炸式的拉肚子 Dàxiàng bàozhàshì de lādùzi," Mal muttered, as he reached into his belt for a second incendiary device. His aim was true. It flew through the air with a glowing arc and landed right on the front doorstep of the building. It sparked and Mal braced for the explosion. A sudden gush of water from an unblocked downspout doused the device. No explosion. "烂 鱼臭的 垃圾 Làn yú chòu de lājī!"

He pulled his weapon from his holster and began shooting into the air, yelling. "Hey! 流口水的婊子和猴子的笨儿子 Liú kǒushuǐ de biǎozi hé hóuzi de bèn érzi!" That got their attention. The sheriff's officers ran towards him with weapons drawn.

. . .

Zoe arrived at Serenity's airlock ramp at the head of nine muddy, ragged people. Simon and Kaylee met them, and immediately began handling the needs of Serenity's new recruits. Zoe was surprised to see River in the cargo bay. She stepped forward to ask her why she was not on the bridge, but River confronted her.

"Go back."

"What?"

"Go back," River repeated. "Jayne needs help. Captain's diverting the policemen. Fireworks cancelled due to rain. Singing and dancing instead. And some bullets."

Zoe didn't pause to interpret the girl's cryptic remarks. She headed immediately back down the ramp and out into the dark, wet night.

. . .

Mal ran from cover to cover, sometimes firing into the air, sometimes yelling. He needed to lead the sheriff's officers away from the slave-pen and the lines of retreat to Serenity, but he didn't want to get too far off track or lose his bearings. It was a delicate dance. He had to make enough of a noise and disturbance to ensure he was followed, but immediately he had to take cover and move stealthily to a new position, to avoid the bullets they fired at each of his outbursts.

. . .

Zoe made the rendezvous with Jayne on a dark street of town. Jayne headed up a straggling column of more than twenty people, and he was struggling to keep them together and silent. Zoe wasted no time. "You, you, and you," she said quietly but forcefully to three straggling groups, "you're with me."

She led her group to Serenity by a more direct route, arriving before Jayne's group. The cargo bay was a hive of activity. Simon was assessing injuries among the newly arrived people. Kaylee offered each person a towel. Inara glided among the people distributing mugs containing a steaming hot beverage of some sort. River stood in the middle of it all, yet completely separate, in her own world.

. . .

Mal peeked up from behind a barrel near a wooden shed and fired his weapon in the air. This time the return fire was immediate, and a hail of bullets hit the side of the shed, bursting the windows and splintering the wood. A chance shot broke a large, jagged splinter off the side of the building and it flew at his head, knocking him flat. He fell amidst a shower of broken glass.

. . .

.

.

.

glossary

泥球 Ní Qiú

尘球 Chén Qíu

狗屎 gǒushǐ [crap]

大象爆炸式的拉肚子 Dàxiàng bàozhàshì de lādùzi [Explosive diarrhea of an elephant]

烂 鱼臭的 垃圾 Làn yú chòu de lājī [Rotten fish-stinking garbage]

流口水的婊子和猴子的笨儿子 Liú kǒushuǐ de biǎozi hé hóuzi de bèn érzi [Stupid sons of a drooling harlot and a monkey]

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><p><em>AN: And so I leave you with this cliffhanger! (*evil author chuckle*) Want to find out what happens next? Write me a review!_


	6. Chapter 6

Break Out, Part 4a

_The plan does not go smooth._

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><p>River suddenly turned and focused on Zoe. "Captain's hit," she stated, adding after a very small pause, "He doesn't look better in red."<p>

Zoe raced off into the dark mud, again.

. . .

Mal lay on the ground, stunned. Stifling a groan, he rolled over onto his belly. He was not dead. Blood was pouring out of his head, though. He crawled on his belly along the ground to the shelter of a nearby wall, and leant his body against it.

Zoe's voice crackled through Mal's earwig. "Captain! Do you read?"

Mal tried to reply, but all he could manage was a soft moan that sounded pathetic even to himself.

. . .

Zoe became quite alarmed when she heard Mal's moan. River's voice spoke in her ear.

"He can hear you. Can't answer. Keep going." Zoe ran, mostly sticking to cover, but to tell the truth she was far more concerned with speed than stealth. "Turn left," River's voice guided. "Down the alley."

. . .

Mal knew he couldn't stay there, but it was awfully hard to move. The sheriff's officers were around the corner, shouting, shining their lights into the rainy night. The shifting of the lights settled from random flashes into something more systematic, and he knew they were working a search pattern. Sooner or later they would find him.

He tried to consider his options, but it was hard to think. Seemed to him the options ranged from bad to…really bad. He heard River's voice in his head. In his ear? Oh, right, in the comm. "Gotta move, Captain. Hands and knees. Keep your head down." He obeyed, rolling with effort onto his hands and knees. He began to crawl. "Other way," River snapped. Okay, least he knew it was real. He reversed direction. "Just gotta get to the dumpster in the alley." He spotted the dumpster. It seemed very far. He was gonna pass out. "Can't pass out. Gotta keep going. Help is on the way." He put everything he had into crawling toward the goal.

Lights and shouts played out behind him as the officers' search led them closer. Mal crawled past the edge of the dumpster as several officers burst around the corner to the spot where he had leant against the wall.

"Here's blood!" one of them said. "Bring some more lights, we'll see if we can find a trail."

Mal propped himself in a sitting position against the back of the dumpster, breathing hard. He closed his eyes. "Got him good," a voice said. "There's a big pool of blood here. He can't be far."

. . .

"Captain's by the trash."

With River's voice guiding her, Zoe pounded up the alley. She spotted Mal lying by the dumpster.

. . .

River wouldn't let him rest. "Gotta stand up, Captain." When he didn't move, she pestered him relentlessly. "Stand up. When you can't crawl, you walk. And when you can't walk, you run. And when you run, you get someone to carry you." With a supreme effort, Mal pulled himself up using the handles built into the side of the dumpster. Zoe was suddenly with him. She draped his arm over her shoulder, put her own arm around his chest, and they trundled off in a lopsided way, like people running a three-legged race. His legs seemed to be working, he didn't know how; it certainly wasn't his brain telling them where to go. He seemed to be floating along, though Zoe, heavily supporting his weight, would have told a different tale. The sheriff's officers had followed the trail of blood to the dumpster, and one of them, detecting their movement, shot blindly into the alley, calling for back-up.

Zoe felt a bullet graze her leg. She ignored it and kept moving. Mal had a head wound that seemed to be bleeding all over, but there wasn't time to stop and field-dress it. As long as his legs kept working. She doubted she could carry him all the way to the ship, at least not with any kind of speed. To her surprise he spoke.

"It's not as bad as it looks, Zoe."

"That so, sir? 'Cause you look like hell warmed over for breakfast."

"Just a graze," he muttered.

"Shut up and keep runnin', sir."

. . .

Jayne's group arrived on Serenity, and the cargo bay was a seething mass of muddy humanity. Simon was busy cleansing and bandaging minor injuries. Kaylee brought more towels. Inara carried a tray with more hot drinks. Some of the early arrivals were settling down, sitting on or leaning against the cargo crates, but many of the new arrivals were meandering about looking a little bit stunned. Everybody was wet and muddy.

River suddenly announced, "Gotta fly." She ran up the stairs for the bridge.

Less than a minute later, Zoe sprinted up the ramp, half-dragging Mal, whose feet seemed to be working, but who looked like hell. Blood ran all over his head, face, and the front and back of his body. Zoe was bloodied, too, but it looked to be mostly Mal's blood. Anywhere he was not covered with blood, he was covered with mud.

Zoe shouted, "Go! Jayne!" and Jayne jumped to shut the airlock. River lifted the ship off the ground before the doors had completely closed. Simon caught sight of Mal and immediately bumped him up to the top of the triage list. He ran to help Zoe. Inara dropped her tray, which was fortunately empty, and ran to Mal's side.

"Mal! Mal! Mal!"

Mal appeared to have passed out, but Zoe was still supporting him. Zoe, Simon, and Inara carried Mal directly to the infirmary.

. . .

Leaving Jayne and Kaylee to handle the crowd in the cargo bay, Zoe and Inara assisted Simon in the infirmary. Rapidly assessing Mal's injuries, Simon set up an IV, cleansed his face and head, and began preparing sutures.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Simon announced.

Zoe was relieved. "Good. 'Cause he looks half-dead."

"Looks like he got hit by a wooden splinter," Simon detailed, "and shards of glass. No skull fracture—I don't think the bullet actually hit him. Scalp wounds bleed a lot."

"Does he need a transfusion?" Inara asked.

"Not likely," Simon replied. "It's a good thing, because he's O positive. None of our crew has a compatible blood type. Only Wash had—" he stopped himself. Wash had been the universal donor, because of his O negative blood type—that, and the fact that he stayed out of harm's way on most jobs. Many a time had Wash donated blood when Mal, Zoe, or Jayne came back injured.

At that moment, Ip Neumann came by the open door of the infirmary, on the way down from the galley with a tray full of hot mugs of soup. "My God, what happened to the Captain?"

"Scalp wound," Simon replied. "Spectacular bleeding—the scalp is extraordinarily well-supplied with blood vessels. A concussion from the impact of the splinter. Nausea. And more blood loss than usual, on account of running here without stopping to field-dress the wound." Simon considered a moment, then observed, "He's going to have one hell of a headache. He'll be very ornery."

"How will we know when he's recovered, then?" Zoe asked, drily.

. . .

Simon finished suturing Mal's injury, then cleaned and bandaged Zoe's leg. She returned to take charge in the cargo bay, and Simon spoke to Inara. "I've given him something to knock him out."

"To lessen the pain?" she asked.

"Well, yes. But mostly to keep him from jumping up and trying to do captain-y things."

Inara gestured towards the cargo bay. "You know he won't rest when he thinks it's his responsibility to—"

"It's his responsibility to recover from the concussion," Simon said authoritatively. "I know how resistant he is to the notion of bed rest."

. . .

Inara sat by Mal's bedside, keeping watch. How many times had she kept vigil over Mal as he lay injured, since she first came to Serenity? She looked at him with a roil of emotions playing across her features. Tenderness. She loved this man, this impossible, headstrong, noble-hearted 傻瓜 shǎguā who angered her to no end when he called her whore. Worry. She looked at the bandages that wrapped his head, envisioning again the railroad tracks of sutures that they covered. They ran from the edge of his face near his hairline right across the top of his head. There was nothing he wouldn't take on, reasonable or not. One of these days, he would take on too much, and get himself killed. Anger. How could he do this to her? Didn't he ever pause to think about how his actions affected her, affected everyone aboard his ship? She wanted to hit him for being so reckless. It was so like him, to do something like this. He'd made her angrier than she could remember, refusing the only favor she'd ever asked of him, when he had no idea of its importance to her. Calling her a liar, when she wasn't. She'd only withheld information, and she'd done it for _his _sake, to spare him. He was one to talk—the man who wouldn't open the book of his life without someone using a crowbar, who wouldn't share his past, who kept whole _years_ of his life secret from her—. And just when she was so angry with him she could swear she wanted nothing to do with him ever again, he went off and did something like this, something so noble and good, that she felt she loved him more than ever before. She picked up his hand, and caressed it as he slept.

. . .

Someone was holding his wrist. He fluttered his eyelids, returning to consciousness, and opened them to find Shepherd Book standing over him, checking his pulse and saying a prayer.

"Shepherd—" Mal said weakly.

Book saw that Mal was awake, and dropped his wrist. "You're back, Captain."

"I go someplace?" His head was pounding.

"That's up to you," Book replied.

"Ohhh, right now I don't feel like going anywhere at all. Can you turn the lights down?"

Book did so, and it was quiet for a beat.

There was something about the Shepherd, Mal remembered. Ah, yes, that was it. "Could say the same for you, you know," Mal said.

Book regarded him with a questioning look.

"_You're _back," Mal clarified.

Book made a non-committal sound. "Hmm." All was quiet again. Then Book fixed him with a penetrating look, and spoke. "So, Captain—smuggling, thieving, transportation of illegal cargo—and now you've added slave trading?"

"Is that what it looks like?" Mal asked, more than a mite disconcerted.

Book answered with a look.

"Well, it's not," Mal said defiantly. "Just giving these folks a ride to freedom, is all."

" 'If you can't do something smart, do something right'," Book quoted.

哎呀 Āiyā, was the preacher really quoting _himself?_ Mal thought. "You've said that before."

"Yes," Book said. Again the two sat silent for a spell.

"You going all cryptic on me, Shepherd?" Mal asked, unable to stand the silence. "Are you saying this ain't a smart move?"

Book waited again in silence. _Well, what?_ Mal looked at the preacher. Man was worse than the grand inquisitor, with his meaningful silences. "Look, Shepherd," Mal began, defensively. "I got it figured out. We may have 'stole' these people from 泥球 Ní Qiú, but there ain't no way they can claim 'em as stolen property. They'd have to admit they were keepin' 'em as slaves. We land 'em on Persephone, I've made contact with the Society to Abolish Human Trafficking there. They'll see to their needs, help them get back on their feet. I'm taking a hit providing for their food aboard Serenity, but the last couple of jobs have been good to us, and we can get work on Persephone."

"So," Book replied, "Badger will be impressed by your nobility in freeing the slaves of 泥球 Ní Qiú, and give you a job, then?"

"Well, no, he won't, point of fact. But Badger ain't my only contact on Persephone."

"Then you'll get a job from Atherton Wing. You made _him_ acknowledge that you were a great man."

"All right, Shepherd, quit tweaking me."

"What kind of reception do you expect on Persephone?" Book asked.

"I ain't expecting no kind of reception at all."

Book raised his eyebrows in reply. _Really?_

"I ain't worrying on some theoretical reception, preacher," Mal retorted, in response to Book's silence. "What I'm worrying on is Blue Sun."

"Changing the subject, are we?"

"It's my boat," Mal said, petulantly.

Book acknowledged the fact. "So what worries you about Blue Sun?"

"I'm not rightly sure," Mal replied. "I just feel like they're too…well, too much everywhere. This boat was sabotaged while we were carrying Holden Brothers' secret information about Blue Sun. And out by the Lion's Mouth, we were chased by a stealth ship."

"An Alliance stealth ship?" Book queried.

"It weren't the Alliance. Feds didn't even see it. And River started in with her 'two by two, Hands of Blue,' creepifying talk at the same time. Who else but Blue Sun would have the kind of money it takes to buy a stealth ship?"

"Who indeed?" Book replied. "Now why would Blue Sun be interested in a small-time smuggler like yourself?"

"That's just the question I've been asking myself."

"Can't you think of a reason?" Book insisted. Mal pondered. "What are some of your more serious breaches of the peace, Captain?" Book asked, and then listed them. "Thieving, armed robbery, assault, shootings, killings even—yet you've been bound by law for _what_?"

"Smuggling, tariff dodging, transportation of illegal cargo," Mal recited his rap sheet. "Never convicted, though."

"Have you ever wondered why the law hasn't come down on you for armed robbery? Assault? Killings?"

"Didn't have no evidence against me, I reckon."

"Didn't have evidence? Or weren't looking for it?" Book paused to let the thought sink in. "Why would the government put so much law enforcement effort into catching tariff dodgers—and not bother with armed robbery?"

"Huh."

"In whose interest is it to enforce tariff and anti-smuggling laws?" Book asked. Again he paused for a long beat. "Didn't you say Blue Sun was angling for a trade monopoly on Beaumonde?"

"I didn't say it, Shepherd, Buck Holden did—how did you know that, Shepherd? But it's hard to take it as a serious threat—you know, a company that's known for selling t-shirts and fruity oaty bars."

"You already know the danger that lurks in fruity oaty bars," Book said ominously.

"I do," Mal said, with a bit of a shudder.

"But here on the outer Rim," Book continued, "Blue Sun's business is not mainly soda pop and fruity oaty bars, is it?"

"You're right," Mal answered. "They're doing the terraforming—equipment, operations—"

"And workers?" Book added significantly.

"Sonofabitch. Blue Sun is behind slave trafficking."

"You have no evidence of that," Book cautioned.

"Makes sense, though. It's their 'way,' ain't it, Shepherd? Control the process from start to finish. Another gorram monopoly."

"So whose interests have you just crossed? With your," he coughed meaningfully, "slave rescue."

"Blue Sun," said Mal, staring.

"Do you think they're prepared to let a small-time smuggler and _petty _thief get away with it? One who has already shaken the system down to its foundations with a broadwave about Miranda?"

"哦, 神圣的地狱 啊 Ò, shénshèng de dìyù ā. They don't know that. Nobody knows we broadwaved it."

"Nobody?" Book returned, with a look that challenged Mal's assertion.

"Well, the Operative," Mal admitted. "But he won't tell them—he's too busy trying to keep outta the way of the Parliament hisownself."

"Were there no other people who saw you, your crew, or your ship in association with the Miranda broadwave?"

"The Alliance soldiers," Mal said, as the realization hit him. "The whole gorram fleet."

"And not a one of them would talk? With the inducements that a well-funded corporation could provide?"

"他妈的 操的 王八蛋 Tāmādē cào de wángbādàn."

. . .

.

.

.

_fin_

glossary

傻瓜 shǎguā [idiot]

哎呀 Āiyā [Damn]

泥球 Ní Qiú [name of a world]

哦, 神圣的地狱 啊 Ò, shénshèng de dìyù ā [Oh holy hell]

他妈的 操的 王八蛋 Tāmādē cào de wángbādàn [Mother humping son of a bitch]

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><p><em>AN: You know what to do! Reviews make the fanfic author's world go round._


	7. Chapter 7

Break Out, Part 4b

_The aftermath of the slave rescue._

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><p>Mal's drug-induced sleep was a restless sleep. Inara watched as he twitched in agitation on the infirmary bed. He muttered incomprehensibly. She tried to soothe him, giving him sips of water and tending him through the night.<p>

. . .

Kaylee came to relieve her in the early hours of the morning, and Inara made her way back to her shuttle. The cargo bay was full. Most of the cargo crates had their lids propped open, and inside slept the escaped slaves of 泥球 Ní Qiú. As she neared her shuttle, Zoe appeared, and she realized the first officer had been waiting for her.

"Inara, mind if I come in with you? I need to talk with you."

Inara led the way in. Once inside, she asked, "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you," Zoe replied. "Inara, I'll speak plainly. I need your help."

"My help? What can I do?"

"In managing the Captain," Zoe continued. "You're the only one he'll listen to."

"Zoe, I don't think Mal has ever listened to me."

"Oh, yes, he has," Zoe stated with certainty. "Inara, he has been guided by your influence ever since you stepped on this boat, and it's only more so since the two of your took your relationship to the next level four weeks ago."

"Zoe, what?...I've never said…has Mal?..." She and Mal had never announced their relationship to the crew.

"Do you think I can't tell? I've known the man for more than fourteen years, Inara. He's my best friend. In some ways, I know him more thoroughly than I ever knew Wash. When you stepped aboard this vessel more than two years ago, you kindled something in him—something I hadn't seen since early on in the War, before things started going way south. Part of him that had been dead since Serenity Valley started to come back to life."

Inara was at a loss for words. "Oh," she said, stupidly.

"When you two finally slept together, the night we left Beaumonde—"

"You _knew?_" Did Zoe have their union pinned down to the exact minute?

"Inara, there isn't much that goes on, here on this boat, without me knowin' it," Zoe stated with absolute confidence. "When you two finally slept together, you opened up a part of him that's been closed off for years. I've heard him _laugh_ with you—in a way I've not heard him laugh for a decade. So, yes, I think you _do _have great influence with the Captain, and that's why I'm asking for your help."

"But Zoe, surely _you_ have more influence with Mal than I—"

"Oh, I've been following—_and_ _questioning—_his orders for years." Zoe was clear on that. Others might think she blindly followed Mal's lead, but she—and Mal—understood that it was far more complicated than that. "And I will surely let him know what's on my mind, as soon as he's got his head on straight again. But I'll need your help to work this."

"Work what?" Inara asked.

"Help me steer him towards less dangerous work. I thought he was on the right track, with legal cargo, Holden's shipments—then he takes it into his head to liberate slaves on a planet that's practically owned by Blue Sun—puts himself, and all of us, in harm's way. And look at him. Had to carry him back to the ship, blood pouring outta his head. And 尘球 Chén Qíu weren't much better. Nearly got shot in the belly."

"Mal?"

"No, _me_," Zoe returned. "I don't mind that he's got these crazy, noble notions of doin' the right thing—I'm glad to see he's still got it in him, 'cause I had thought that part of him also died at Serenity Valley. But putting us in harm's way when there's a way around it—particularly after— " She stopped, unable to talk about Miranda, and Wash. She bottled up her emotions, and continued in a tight voice, "He's gotten more reckless recently. You can stop it."

"Zoe, I know you think I have…influence. But I've never felt…less in control. All my professional life, I've known how to influence people, make them feel—what they're supposed to feel. But I can't predict Mal's reactions." She'd spent years studying how to read people, how to influence people, how to lead people in a desired direction. Her skills rarely failed her—except with Mal. Techniques that had other men—her clients—behaving predictably and following the rules—on Mal, they backfired. Mal was a loose cannon. And just as dangerous. "I tried, a few days ago, to ask him to do something for me—I failed miserably, we quarreled, we—"

"Oh, no," Zoe groaned. "He screwed up."

"What?"

"I knew it. 该死 Gāisǐ. Not a lick of common sense." Zoe turned to leave the shuttle. As she exited, she had an afterthought, and added, "You know, you were right, Inara."

"About Mal?"

"About me," Zoe returned, leaving Inara puzzled.

. . .

Knowing that Mal would want a full status report first thing he was fully conscious, Zoe checked with Simon and made sure she was in the infirmary when he woke. She filled him in. "…a total of thirty-two passengers."

"That's eight more 'n we planned on," Mal said, running the calculations for expenditure of stores at five times the normal rate. "How 're supplies holding up?"

"Water's tight," Zoe answered. "People were so muddy when they arrived, I authorized water use for bathing for each of them, and that cost us. And their clothes were so filthy, I authorized water use for laundry. Of course, most of the wash water can be reclaimed, but it's a big strain on the water reclamation system, having all these people aboard."

"Food stores?" Mal inquired.

"Neumann's a wonder."

Mal raised his eyebrows in surprise, and winced at the strain in his stitches. "Neumann?"

"Turns out he's a skilled cook," Zoe replied. "Can turn out a tasty meal for forty outta minimal ingredients. He stepped right up, volunteered to take cook duty 'til we reach Persephone. Of course, what cooks best for a crowd is soups and stews—and again, it's the water stores that's taking a beating."

"Life support system?" Mal knew Kaylee had been worried about the atmo system even before they landed on 泥球 Ní Qiú. How would it perform under the extra burden?

"It's a little strained, with all these people aboard. Kaylee's been babying the atmo feed, and she says it'll do, for now."

Mal nodded. "Fuel?"

"The extra weight is an issue, but now we've reached speed, we should be fine. We're only five days out from Persephone."

"I been out for two days?"

"Simon insisted. Only way to keep you from compounding the injury from the concussion."

"混球 的 医生 Húnqiú de yīshēng," Mal muttered to himself. "Still got one hellluva headache. Listen, Zoe—" he began, rising from the infirmary bed.

"Sir, I'd like to speak."

Mal gave her his full attention. Zoe never interrupted him for trivialities.

"Sir, I'm giving you notice—" she began.

This was one of Mal's worst fears. "What?—Zoe, you're not—" he said in a panic.

"—notice that I want to be relieved of duty on jobs that involve a likelihood of violence, particularly gunplay," Zoe finished.

Mal was relieved. Not _that._ "What, Zoe?" he asked, reasonably. "You never had a problem with violence before. You're 'specially good at it, as I recollect." He smiled at his recollections of some of the finer instances. It was a smile that anyone but Zoe would have found a bit creepy. "Is it 'cause of my idiot diversion on 泥球 Ní Qiú? I'm sorry I put you through that, Zoe. Shouldn't 'a had to rescue me. Things just didn't go according to plan. 'Course I shoulda known that the incendiaries wouldn't work with all that rain. Never seen a planet with so much rain. I—"

"Sir, I ain't sayin' I won't help," Zoe cut in, bringing him back to the point. "I'll mind the ship, I'll back you for negotiations, just not the kind involving shooting. Nor other mortal peril."

"Oh, Zoe, I'm sorry, I shoulda thought—I ain't been thinkin'—" Mal knew no apology was adequate for what Zoe had been through.

"That's clear. Sir," Zoe said, drily.

Mal felt the waves of guilt washing over him. "It's my fault that you ain't got—that Wash—oh, Zoe, sorry, sorry—I'm—"

"No, sir. What happened to Wash wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was," Mal insisted. "If I hadn't taken us to Miranda, brought the Reavers down on us…"

"Then we'd _all_ be dead," Zoe stated with certainty. "Operative would've seen to that. You did what you had to, sir."

"I risked the lives of everybody on this boat. Wash had to pay the price for my decision. Book, too. I as good as killed 'em both."

"Wash was a grown man, Mal," Zoe said, with a rare use of his name. "He made his own decisions. He chose to follow you. So did I."

"Zoe, don't you go tryin' to un-guilt me," Mal said, miserably. "Those things came about as a result of decisions I made. It's my responsibility."

"You'd agree then, that it's your responsibility—for the sake of Wash—and Book—and the others who gave their lives—to look after the welfare of the survivors?"

Mal looked up at her. "Yes, it surely is. Zoe, what're you meaning?"

"I'm pregnant, sir. Going on fourteen weeks."

Mal's jaw dropped. "Of course. I shoulda put it together—I was seeing the signs—on 尘球 Chén Qiú, when you couldn't eat—when Jayne upset you—when—" The enormity of what he'd put her through suddenly hit him. "You nearly took a bullet in the belly, at Nilsen's scrapyard, on account of my hare-brained slave rescue attempt there. You _did _take a bullet in the leg on 泥球 Ní Qiú. I've been risking your life, and the life of your baby. Zoe, I've been reckless. I ain't fit to lead."

"You're fit to lead, sir, but only because you realize you aren't." She paused. "It's them that think they're fit that's most dangerous. Just keep away from the riskier jobs, sir. I'll back you."

. . .

With the focus of all activity in the cargo bay, Simon had Serenity's dining room to himself. He had enlisted the aid of the entire crew to pull it off. Zoe had come up with a tablecloth, Inara had provided him with an elegant china place setting and of course candles, and River had presented him with two beautifully constructed artificial flowers in a vase. Jayne had willingly helped him clean the dining room and galley ahead of time, and Mal had given him the idea in the first place. To his great surprise, Neumann had helped, too, advising him how to stretch the short rations into something worth eating, and giving him a packet of herbs that he'd brought on board in his personal luggage. Simon was confident he'd done everything he could. He heard her step in the hallway, and nervously re-checked all the preparations.

Kaylee entered the dining room, and Simon showed her to her seat. He hurried into the galley and brought out a covered plate, which he set before her with a flourish.

The view as he removed the lid was somewhat anticlimactic. An extremely small portion of reddish molded protein sat in the center of the plate. But the charm was in the details. He had shaped it like a heart, and neat off-white lettering on top spelled out "I love you."

"It's just packaged food, but with a little rosemary, a little marjoram—" Simon babbled, nervously.

Kaylee regarded the plate in silence for a moment. Then she turned to him with shining eyes. "It's perfect," she whispered.

Simon felt he would melt into the floor with the look she gave him. Then she smiled, and the room lit up. "Care to join me?"

"But…but there's only one place setting!" he blathered.

"Is that a problem?" Kaylee asked, indicating her lap.

They finished the rest of the meal with Kaylee nestled against Simon's chest, taking turns feeding each other miniscule bites from the same delicate fork.

. . .

The chow line was set up in the cargo bay. Ip Neumann had prepared a large pot of soup, and Mal stood behind it, serving it out to the 泥球 Ní Qiú refugees. Every bowl, cup, and mug that Serenity possessed had been pressed into service, and each person held their chosen vessel out to Mal, who filled it with soup and chatted with each and every person as they passed through the line. Inara observed the scene from the catwalk, near her shuttle.

"Mr and Mrs Chow, good to see you," Mal greeted a middle-aged couple as he ladled out the soup. They had been kidnapped on their way home from work on Whitefall, six years previously. They had four children, aged six through thirteen at the time, who had been left to fend for themselves. Every one of the 泥球 Ní Qiú slaves had a story to tell, and Mal made a point of getting to know them. These people had been captured, cowed, herded, and corralled, their freedom and their individuality stripped from them. Treating them like people, whole and actual, was an important step for them on their way to reclaiming their humanity.

"Vijay!" he greeted a young man in his mid-twenties. The fellow had worked at a stud farm on Three Hills, dreaming about tending the horses at the big-time races. A horse trade gone bad had been his downfall, and he had his freedom taken in lieu of payment. "So, who do you reckon will win the Pinewoods Derby?" Mal asked. "They still hold that race on Three Hills, don't they? Been a long time since I was there."

A woman with fading bruises on her face held out her soup bowl. "You're lookin' better, Miss Sadowski. Space flight agrees with you." The woman had been good-looking, and there was no doubt about the purpose for which she'd been sold into slavery. The hard manual labor of terraforming had been her punishment when she refused to cooperate with her captors' original purpose.

After the passengers had been served, the crew came through the line. "Good soup, Dr. Ip," Mal said with a smile. "They're lovin' it. How'd you know miso soup's my favorite?" The new doc moved off, and Mal looked up to meet Jayne's stare. Man was tryin' to intimidate him into…what? _More soup?_ Mal stared him down. "Just one serving, Jayne. Gotta stretch this pot to feed the rest." To Zoe, Mal spoke quietly, "Gotta keep up your strength," as he ladled a little extra into her bowl.

Inara did not pass through the line. Mal looked up to catwalk and saw the hem of her dress flutter as she disappeared into her shuttle. He'd had almost no contact with Inara since their fight on the bridge. He regretted their estrangement, but he didn't know how to end it.

"There's not enough left for you."

River's voice startled him out of his momentary absence. He gave her a tired smile. "Doesn't matter, Albatross. I don't have no appetite anyhow." He poured the remaining soup into his mug. It filled it about one quarter full.

River watched as the Captain moved through the crowded cargo bay, nursing his quarter mug of soup, pretending he had plenty, talking to people. To all appearances, he was on dinner break, casually shooting the breeze, but River knew that he was on duty, circulating, assessing morale, contributing to the good cheer, and lessening the hardship of short rations. It was the kind of thing he had done regularly during the War, and he was damn good at it. It was one of the reasons that made men and women willing to follow him through hell.

. . .

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_fin_

glossary

该死 Gāisǐ [Damn it]

混球 的 医生 Húnqiú de yīshēng [Asshole doctor]

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><p><em>AN: And that's all for Break Out. Hope you liked this story. Leave me a note. And if you liked the experiment with shorter chapters, more frequently (or didn't like it) let me know. Thanks for reading!_


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